


all is well (it's only blood)

by meowrails



Series: it's only blood [1]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Doctor Strange (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, Blood Drinking, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 03:38:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12762342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowrails/pseuds/meowrails
Summary: Stephen is quite full of life for someone who’s technically dead.Takes place in comics!verse. Only posting it on the movie tag so more people can see.





	all is well (it's only blood)

**Author's Note:**

> i thought of this au a while back and couldn't stop thinking about it. partly inspired by what we do in the shadows, partly inspired by [this](http://icarus.co.vu/post/64533835547/odlaws-no-im-not-making-a-one-sided-romance) art, and the original artist can be found [here](http://frankoldies.tumblr.com/).
> 
> this is very short and hastily written, but i hope you like it! comments and kudos appreciated.
> 
> WARNINGS: non-graphic mentions of blood drinking

Wong just had a terrible day.

His coworkers we absolutely insufferable, even more than usual. He’d forgotten that the library was holding a book signing today with some famous author that wrote a young adult novel that he hadn’t bothered with. Wong didn’t  _ forget _ these sort of things, his planner was meticulous for a reason. After hours of dealing with long lines of loud teenagers that were too loud, parents that continued to move the books out of place, and children supervising in their reading section, he decided he’d had enough of the day pretty early on. He didn’t even like children, or teenagers, or entitled parents. Any solace he could usually find from the newest employee, Zelma, was gone for the day as she was off in the Philippines on holiday visiting her family. His favorite lunch place was closed on a health inspection, a car drove past him on the sidewalk and covered him in snow, and he still had to buy some much needed groceries. Wong wanted nothing more than to go back home and focus on nothing more than a good book and a cup of tea.

After going through the supermarket as quickly as possible and buying what he needed, Wong decided it was worth the money to get a cab instead of having to walk back. He was exhausted, he had a headache, and he’d only just noticed the familiar weight of a small animal lying on the top of his head.

He never exactly envisioned himself living a life where the weight of a bat lying on his head was a familiar sensation.

“Stephen?” He whispered, hoping the driver didn’t notice. The bat squeaks once. When the driver glances back, Wong pulls his hoodie up to cover his head, pretending to look out the window.

Once he knows he isn’t being noticed, he grabs the bat with one hand and glares at it. Damn the man for picking such an adorable animal to turn into. The bat tilts his head.

“I thought you were at home – never mind, we’ll talk about it later.” He doesn’t want the random driver to think that he’s talking to himself. Not like that would be an especially strange sight in New York City, but he also didn’t want the stranger to think he’d snuck an animal into his taxi.

The bat crawls across his body and eventually huddles inside the front pockets of his jacket, most likely seeing warmth. At first, Wong thought it was weird, seeing at it’s still technically his roommate cuddling with him, just smaller. Now it’s kind of adorable. After four years of living together, he just hopes that Stephen doesn’t accidentally turn back while still resting inside his clothes.

They finally get back home and Wong pays the driver as the bat discretely flies away from his hoodie and heads towards the large, impending gothic building in the corner of Bleecker Street. Wong grabs his grocery bags, growing increasingly frustrated as he realizes Stephen isn’t going to help him.As Stephen’s wings flutter away beside him, he struggles to unlock with door with just one hand and eventually pushes the door open, seeing as the bat swoops inside immediately. Just as he closes the door behind him and begins taking off his coat and gloves, Stephen has already turned back. 

In the middle of the hallways stands a tall, tan man wearing an expensive looking button down red shirt, a knee length black skirt, and black tights. For someone born in the 1930’s, Stephen adapted to the androgynous fashion of the modern times very quickly, and is just showing off at this point. He may not be affected by the cold but there’s no reason to wear such a thin, silk shirt in the beginning of winter.

The vampire goes with him as he heads towards the kitchen. Wong puts away all the groceries as if on autopilot while Stephen looks through the bags for something, his perfectly manicured hands touching and probing the produce for some godawful fucking reason. He’s not going to eat any of it, why the hell is he touching his food? It’s Wong’s food.

“Did you buy those cookies I like?”

Wong sighs. “I thought you told me not to let you eat anything anymore. Remember what happened last time?”

“I know but I won’t ask you to help me mop up the blood next time.” Stephen appears beside him instantly. His superhuman speed used to scare him at first, but not it just seems unnecessary. They’re at home, there’s no need to rush. “Please?”

“No.”

“Fine, I’ll buy it myself.”

The human laughs. “With what money?”

Being a vampire makes it hard to find a job. It’s even harder when Stephen is a vampire  _ and _ disabled, and can’t exactly do much with his hands despite the superhuman strength. Not that he would ever see the man working in anything physically taxing. The only reason Wong was probably here in the first place was because he needed money to pay for utility bills, which Wong ended up handling anyway. As it turns out, despite not needing food, it had taken Stephen a long time to accept the fact that he was getting tired of hypnotizing workers into not cutting off his water or power every other week.

Stephen shrugs, knowing that he doesn’t have anything to add to the conversation. Wong is right, anyway.

He changes the subject. “What were you doing out?”

“I was… having dinner.”

“I thought you weren’t going to eat this week.”

“Neither did I but I got especially hungry… and there was a creep harassing someone at a bar.”

Wong didn’t probe into that side of Stephen’s life. The man had a strict moral code when it came to feeding. Never the sick, never go around hospital, never take from blood banks, never anyone under the age of eighteen -- the list goes on. He assumed that whoever Stephen killed deserved it one way or another, but he knew better than to get involved.

He also knew that Stephen always went into a bout of depression when he had to feed. Sixty years of doing the same thing over and over again and the man still can’t get used to having to kill human beings. The guilt consumes him every single time. Wong’s seen it first hand, has offered to help Stephen check if there’s some form of animal blood he can take instead.

There isn’t. It has to be human and it has to be fresh. It eats the man up.

His eyes dart to the dirtied sleeve on Stephen’s dress shirt and he offers the man a cup of tea. It’s the only thing he can consume that isn’t blood, apart from water, as long as it doesn’t have any milk or sweetener. Which is good, seeing as people who add sugar or honey to their tea make his blood boil.

Stephen gives him a weak smile and declines his offer, asking for water instead. As he smiles, Wong can see the sharpened fangs peeking underneath his lips.

The tips of his ears burn, his heart beats faster – it isn’t out of fear. Wong has never been afraid of this man, not even when he assumed Stephen would murder him or try to turn him. No, what he feels isn’t fear, but he is afraid of the feeling.

“How was your day?”

“Terrible.”

“Hm. Wasn’t that book signing happening today or something?”

Wong grits his teeth and doesn’t answer, focusing completely on his cup of tea. He usually isn’t this angry, and he hates the sensation. It brings the entire energy of the house down, and he knows Stephen can feel it as well. Wong likes to consider himself as someone who’s hard to read. Someone who’s private and reserved. It’s difficult to maintain that persona when he has a friend who can smell his emotions and listen to his heartbeat from a mile away. He hopes the man enjoys how fast and loud it is.

“You alright?”

“I’m fine.” Wong answers through his teeth in a way that is absolutely  _ not fine.  _ He presses his hands to his face and groans -- there was no point in hiding his frustration at this point. Let Stephen see it and lavish in it. 

The vampire saunters towards him. That’s another thing about vampires, they sometimes choose not to walk, and just... float towards people. There are days where he swears that Stephen forgets how to use his legs. Stephen stands -- hovers -- in front of him, offering what he assumes is supposed to be a kind, comforting smile, but smiling with sharp teeth turns out to be slightly difficult for most vampires, and it comes off rather crooked. “If you ever need anything, tell me and I’ll have it done, my friend. It pains me to see you like this.”

Wong takes a long chug of his tea as he discreetly tries to breathe slowly, forcing his heartbeat to calm down. Ever since that one night, the vampire has been less and less thoughtful of personal space. The last time he stood this close to him... well, it’s best not to think about that now. They both silently agreed not to speak about it. 

“I will be fine. Thank you.”

With that, he gives his roommate a small smile that seems to be enough to satisfy him. Stephen hums in agreement, now leaving the two of them to stand in silence that grows awkward with each passing second. The vampire looks to the side, noticing the clock. His eyebrow raise as he notices the time, and Wong immediately knows what he’ll say.

“Um, I forgot it happens early during winter. Wong, dear friend, could you...” He gestures to the stairs. 

Wong chews on the side of his cheek. “I haven’t eaten yet and I have to make dinner.”

Looking like a kicked puppy, Stephen lowers his head and gives him a hollow smile. It had become a sort of unspoken daily routine, or at least as often as they could do it. Some days Wong worked late or he simply didn’t get home in time. Stephen would react the same way each time, with a solemn face and an overly dramatic sigh, like a child trying to get attention. Despite his annoyance at his dramatics, Wong always managed to feel guilty. 

He sets his cup aside and starts heading up the stairs. “Alright, let’s go.” 

“You don’t have to--”

“--I already made up my mind, Stephen.”

The vampire rushes past him, so fast that all the Wong feels is a small gust of wind at his side. Stephen waits for him at the attic, sitting on the corner away from the large, circular window that illuminates the room. It offers a lovely view of the Village, painted white by snow. Wong glances to the corner and sees Stephen staring at him, waiting eagerly for him to speak. 

As always, Wong kneels in front of the glass and look at the sky, describing the side of the world that Stephen can no longer be a part of.

“It’s partly cloudy today,” He begins, speaking softly and taking his time. As hungry as he is, it manages to calm him down. Like meditation, only focusing on his surroundings. And on Stephen, who stands with eyes closed just a few feet away where the sun can’t harm him. “We caught it at a good time, it’s just about to disappear past the horizon. The sky is... orange with a hint of pink. Your favorite.”

Stephen makes a quiet sound. A content hum.

“It’s snowing too, not too strongly. It looks like it was taken out of a movie, actually. There isn’t a lot of people in the street. There’s one couple walking their dog. A family walking with their kids. The rest are walking alone. Some people are holding bags, probably holiday gifts. It’s a quiet day, really.”

Wong stands again, he thinks he described what he could, but still stares at the sky. He’s so distracted that he doesn’t notice when Stephen stands in front of him and rests his chin on his shoulder, like a half-hug. Except it isn’t, since Stephen isn’t holding him as he is just seeking comfort, thought rather awkwardly. Their height difference proved to be a setback as he has to bend down a bit to rest his head on his shoulder, his trembling hands hiding from the sun and resting on Wong’s chest.

_ Thank you  _ is all he says, rather quietly. Wong stands unmoving, sweat forming at his brow, heart beating quickly once more. 

“Um, you’re welcome.” Wong pats him on the back one, twice, and eventually gives into the hug. He stammers before finding the right words for his next question. “What did--... What did they look like?”

Stephen manages to understand what he means, and pauses before answering. “Male, late-thirties, caucasian, about five foot nine. He... fought back.” 

No wonder Stephen’s clothes seem stained. His hand traces the silk fabric of his collar and feels dried off blood. Wong’s lived with Stephen long enough to know how to help him clean it, one way or another. He stands in silence, unphased. “Did you hide the body?”

“Yes. Wore gloves too but it wasn’t because... I didn’t wear them tonight just because I had to eat. It just... happened.” Stephen clears his throat. “Either way, it’ll be fine.”

Desperate to change the subject and hopefully stop Stephen from having a good sniff at him, Wong speaks again. “I smell bacon.”

Stephen chuckles, hissing slightly in pain. “I forgot to cover the back of my neck.”

Wong covers the man’s neck with his palm, covering the hint of skin from what’s left of the sun. He stares at the sky again and smiles. “It’s almost completely set, just a few more minutes.”

“Tell me more about it.” He says in a voice that’s low and raspy, like he hasn’t drank water in ages, even though he just had a cup not a few minutes ago. Wong can feel the rumble of the man’s words it at the base of his spine. 

“There’s not really much to say. I’m not much of a poet.”

Stephen doesn’t respond.

He has to say something. Something to console the other man before he locks himself up in a bout of guilt, as he always does when he has to feed. Wong has seen it time and time again and it breaks his heart in a way he doesn’t understand, in a way  _ just friends  _ aren’t supposed to feel. Stephen is quite full of life for someone who’s technically dead. Wong feels himself blush, his fingertips tenderly stroking the back of his neck. It no longer burns as only a sliver of the sunlight peaks through the concrete jungle of the city. There is no reason for Stephen to still be this close to him, but alas -- unspoken words blur all kind of lines.

“I wish you could see it. It’s beautiful.”

The sun finally sets and the moon takes its place. Stephen wraps his hands around his neck, pulling him closer and closer and closer, until they’re chest to chest, and there’s no hiding the intentions behind it.

He’s only found himself in this position once before, months and months ago. Except that time it was nowhere near as romantic and tender. Stephen had held him, starving and desperate for blood, staring at him like a manic animal as Wong bared his arm just to stop him from harming anyone else. It had been nothing like in the movies he’d seen -- it was painful and messy, ruining all of their clothes and making him feel like he was going to both vomit and faint at the same time. Stephen stopped before he drank too much, the human side of him still reminding him that Wong was his friend. Stephen could have killed him right then and there easily. Stephen had the power to devour him and Wong bared his skin without hesitation -- but he supposed that was what love meant.

The human feels all the blood in his body rush to his face, tinting his cheeks red in a way that must just delectable to Stephen. He speaks up just to fill the silence. “Stephen...”

“Yes?”

“When we met -- when you put up an ad for a roommate and met me, did you ever intend on killing me?”

He feels as Stephen’s body stills, a cold, large hand stopping as it tried to slip beneath his shirt. “Do you want the truth?”

“Yes.”

The vampire grazes his teeth against the curve of his neck, the sharpness leaving the lightest of scars. “I thought about it a few times, especially when I was really starving, for the first few weeks. But something always stopped me.”

“What was it?”

“You were never scared of me. Even when I showed you what I was I didn’t smell any fear off you. Just stood there and gave me a knuckle sandwich, thinking it was some sort of bit even after I showed you my teeth.” 

He finds it endearing when Stephen still uses old american slang that he sometimes can’t keep up with, but Wong manages to get the gist of it as he remembers the memory well. Even if Stephen hadn’t been actually hurt by the punch, it managed to surprise him, and he remembers the sight of the vampire on the ground looking up at him and smiling in a kind of relief that he had not expected.

He later learned that Stephen had never chosen this life in the first place. After he broke his hands, he tried everything, and his transformation was his final attempt at healing his body. As it turned out, vampires have inhuman regeneration only to wounds and injuries they go  _ after _ they transformed. So now, he was stuck as an immortal with broken hands. A greedy former doctor forced to break his oath.  He was not evil nor was he violent, just a product of his own sins.

Or maybe that’s just what Wong wants to believe. It doesn’t matter anymore, though, not when he finds himself in his current position.

Stephen continues, “I’m very grateful things did not turn out as planned.”

Only then does he notice that they’re floating three feet above the floor and Stephen is holding him by his waist. Wong cannot help but laugh, despite it all. His heart is betraying him and beating far too quickly. In the light of the moon, Stephen can definitely see him blushing now as he runs a thumb over his cheek. 

“You smell divine.”

Wong decides to amuse him. “Do I smell scared?”

“Almost like fear but not quite. I’ve been a monster long enough to know the difference between fear and arousal.”

The held the words back at the tip of his tongue, suddenly speechless and embarrassed. It was not what he expected from the response. Stephen notices and laughs, loudly, showing off his fangs. 

“You know, it’s very hard to be this close to you and not kiss you.” 

Before the man can say anything else, he stops all and any teasing and just kisses him. His patience for dancing around the subject is low, especially today of all days, and feels the entirely of his skin grow burn as Stephen moves his lips to his neck, now reminding Wong of his fangs on purpose. He isn’t going to admit that the hint of danger is incredibly alluring to him. 

“Let’s go to your room.”

“Why my room?”

“We can’t exactly fuck inside a coffin.”

Wong covers his mouth as he laughs, still blushing. “What makes you think that I will allow you into my room? Don’t you have to be invited into places?”

Stephen takes actual offense in this and huffs. “Wong, you know that’s just a dumb rumor. I can do in and out wherever I please, I’m just a gentleman.”

“A gentleman would not already be half-hard just by kissing. How does that even happen if you don’t have blood inside your body?”

“I try not to think about the logistics of my condition anymore.” He lowers them back to the ground, not lifting Wong up anymore but still has his hands on his hips, looking down at him with half-lidded eyes. 

Oh, turns out vampires can still blush. As much as it doesn’t make any sense, it’s quite endearing.

“I still need to eat.” Wong reminds him, stomach growling as he speaks. 

“Can’t that wait?”

“Not very gentlemanly of you.”

The vampire grins, baring his teeth. The human would be lying if he didn’t secretly find the danger in his smile intoxicating. Wong feels uncharacteristically weak at the knees. “Not exactly, no. But you like it.”

He might need another cup of tea. 

Stephen offers him a hand and they go back downstairs, a wave of domesticity surrounding their dark, old and possibly haunted home. Wong can’t imagine himself anywhere else.


End file.
